Dog's Day
by badriddance
Summary: Written for the kinkmeme. Prompt asked for an established relationship between Dan/Walterschach, post-Roche, where Dan unwittingly forces him to be near a dog, in this case, the first Nite Owl's sidekick, Phantom.


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Written for the kinkmeme. Prompt asked for an established relationship between Dan/Walterschach, post-Roche, where Dan unwittingly forces him to be near a dog, in this case, the first Nite Owl's sidekick, Phantom.

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Rorschach had fled to one end of the couch, as far as he could get from the elderly dog. On the other end, Dan had patted his lap and Phantom had obligingly climbed halfway up, draping his front paws and head over Dan's thigh. Now, the dog blinked mournfully at Rorschach, who was all but bristling.

"Don't know why you want to touch that thing," he grumbled suddenly.

"He's a good dog," Dan said merrily. "He once chased down the Screaming Skull, you know? It's just until Hollis' niece picks him up. It's the least I can do."

"Didn't save Hollis. Probably sat there watching, wagging that idiot tail, while they smashed his head in."

"Stop," Dan said, wincing.

"Probably would've eaten him if the body hadn't been discovered in time."

"Rorschach!" Dan's voice rose, making Phantom's head go up in alarm. "What. The hell??"

There was a long pause, so long that Dan's initial rush of irritation begin to falter into misgiving. Rorschach was motionless except for the nervous twitch of his fingers. He looked at Dan and then, as if against his will, dragged his gaze to Phantom, who looked back guilelessly. The dog's tail fanned the air uncertainly, also looking from Rorschach to Dan. After a moment, a soft sound of disgust came from Rorschach and his hands went still. He pointedly turned to stare at the TV, not looking at either of them.

"… Hate dogs," he finally said, and there was a tremor there that usually only appeared when he talked about his early memories.

"Were you attacked?" Dan had to ask. He kept his voice gentle, hoping beyond hope that this wasn't another notch in what had to be the most hideous of childhoods. There was another long silence, so long that the stupid game show went off and the local news came on. Dan refused to look away, even when he started to feel sure that Rorschach would never answer.

"No," he said suddenly. It was barely more than a whisper, then Rorschach stood up. "Going to bed." He left quickly, almost stomping, which was a sure sign he was upset given his usual stealth. Dan sighed and looked down at Phantom, who looked back with a vaguely hopeful expression.

"Looks like you're sleeping on the couch," he said, ruffling the old dog's ears. "Hopefully, I won't be."

***

Determined not to make things worse than they had to be, Dan spread out an old blanket on his side of the couch and helped the old dog scramble up on it. He set out a bowl of water and then scrubbed his hands and arms with kitchen soap to get rid of any dog smell that might have clung to him before heading upstairs. Even then, he undressed in the bathroom, so there would be no trace of dogginess on him when he went to face his partner again.

Rorschach was on his side in bed facing the wall, breathing too hard to be asleep. Dan slid under the blankets with him and rubbed a palm gently up and down his curved spine. When there were no flinches or growls, he sent his hand ghosting over Rorschach's ribs, curling it around him to pull the scarred body up against his chest. Rorschach still didn't move, but Dan felt his breathing hitch and was dismayed all over again at how much pain his partner seemed to contain.

"Hey," he whispered, letting his lips brush the ear. "It's going to be ok. Whatever happened before isn't going to happen this time."

There was a faint sound in reply to that, but no more. Dan pressed a kiss to Rorschach's throat and let it go. He rubbed his back for a few more minutes and then fell asleep.

***

He awoke again, hours later, to a weird sound and a ticklish sensation. Rorschach had rolled over in his sleep and pressed his face against Dan's belly. He was making nightmare noises, half-growls, half-whimpers, sounds caught between horror and rage, muffled eerily by the mask.

"Easy!" Dan gasped, trying not to move suddenly. Hands that broke bones on a regular basis were pawing at him. Dan carefully put his own hands in the way, tangling fingers with them to slow their struggles. The strangled sounds were drawing together into something intelligible, an uneven mantra of horror.

"No," moaned Rorschach, with none of his usual conviction. "No, no, no, no, no. No, no. No." A deep breath sucked his mask into a little crater over his mouth and Dan freed a hand to slide the mask up over his nose. He didn't usually mind when Rorschach slept in it, but didn't want him choking.

"Shhh," he whispered, wrapping arms around the shivering shoulders. They jerked under his touch, and there was a faint gasp. "It's going to be ok."

"Won't ever be ok," came the weak answer. The hug had woken him up.

"Will you tell me?" Dan asked, stroking the bunched fabric over Rorschach's cheeks as if he was wiping away tears. Rorschach was quiet, but his hands slid up to press against Dan's chest, and he leaned his head against them. Dan didn't push, just let his hands slide up and down the tense back, trying to relax it.

What could have happened to him, he wondered, sadly at first, then with some anger. What _else_ could have possibly happened to him? It wasn't fair. Everybody suffered somehow, but his partner seemed like a sponge for pain. He had soaked up so much that it oozed out of him at every movement and Dan wished he could just squeeze it all out of him, let him be empty and clean for once.

Dan remembered an incident they had broken up years ago where a man had chained his pregnant teenage daughter up and set his illegal fighting dogs on her as punishment for sleeping around. Rorschach hadn't seemed any more upset about that than usual. He had administered the usual beating to the man and left Dan to carry the mauled girl to the ambulance when it was clear her tattered legs wouldn't hold her. She had been screaming and swearing like a sailor. Not that he could blame her.

"Hate dogs," Rorschach said suddenly, almost a sob. "They can't help it, any more than I can."

"You have to explain that," Dan sighed, pulling him closer. "You know I will help you however I can."

"Can't help it," Rorschach repeated. He had gotten control of his shaking voice, but still kept it to a whisper. "Can't change it. Can only bear it."

"What were you dreaming about?" Dan tried again.

"They didn't try to run," Rorschach said. "They didn't know to be afraid. Didn't know what they had done. Stupid, innocent savages."

"Are we still talking about dogs?" Dan tried to tilt Rorschach's head up to look at him, but Rorschach squirmed out of his grip to hide his face against Dan's chest.

"They let me walk right up to them," Rorschach went on. "Didn't bark, didn't whimper, just looked at me while I smashed their heads in. You'd think the second one would've had doubts after I killed the first. It walked over to its partner and sniffed it, and then looked up at me, didn't even flinch when the cleaver came down."

Rorschach shuddered again. After a moment, he pulled off the mask to nuzzle into Dan's throat.

"Dream about it sometimes. The noise they made when the blade hit. The way they didn't fear or understand."

Dan felt pieces start to fall in place. The hideous remark about Phantom eating Hollis had to come from somewhere. What had Rorschach seen that night? How many nights since had he seen it again behind his eyes? He swore under his breath and snuggled Rorschach as close as he could.

"Had to do it," Rorschach said, his hands balling into fists. "Even if I could've let them live after what they had done, had to punish _him_. He stole a child and wallowed in her blood. I doused him in theirs."

Dan couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he settled for a sympathetic whimper and a series of kisses over Rorschach's ear and down his jaw. When he got to the lips, Rorschach kissed him back, but sadly and gently. They curled into each other, clutching tightly as if contact would keep the nightmares away. Half an hour ticked by and Dan was starting to doze off again when Rorschach's voice whispered against his skin again.

"Dogs are like children," he said. "They become what's made of them. They can't help what people turn them into." He was quiet for another moment, then added with quiet steel. "And neither can I."


End file.
